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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29248563">drunk in love</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/archetypically/pseuds/archetypically'>archetypically</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>tumblr prompt fills [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Guardians of the Galaxy (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Nova (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, I have no idea what else to tag this, M/M, One Shot, Tumblr Prompt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 01:16:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,005</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29248563</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/archetypically/pseuds/archetypically</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The lump passed out over the counter that may or may not be named Peter Quill slowly begins to stir, lifting his head a fraction of an inch and then groaning before flopping it back down. This happens a few more times as Rich, seated on a barstool less than a foot away, waits patiently. When the head, with hair sticking up in all directions, actually manages to stay up, Rich has to lean in a little bit to hear: “Why? ‘S a party. For me, an’ you, an’ everyone.” The closeness, though, doesn’t help much; with all the slurring, the words are almost unintelligible. “We can stay as long as we want.”</i>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peter Quill/Richard Rider</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>tumblr prompt fills [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1441165</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>drunk in love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i literally had no idea what to title this so i channeled beyonce</p><p>from prompt #90 off of <a href="https://novasforce.tumblr.com/post/619758215775780864/writing-prompts">this list!</a></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“C’mon, Pete. Think it’s time to go.”</p><p>The lump passed out over the counter that may or may not be named Peter Quill slowly begins to stir, lifting his head a fraction of an inch and then groaning before flopping it back down. This happens a few more times as Rich, seated on a barstool less than a foot away, waits patiently. When the head, with hair sticking up in all directions, actually manages to stay up, Rich has to lean in a little bit to hear: “Why? ‘S a party. For me, an’ you, an’ everyone.” The closeness, though, doesn’t help much; with all the slurring, the words are almost unintelligible. “We can stay as long as we want.”</p><p>But the lopsided grin that now splits Peter’s face? Couldn’t be missed from orbit with how bright it is.</p><p>It makes Rich want to smile, too, but —</p><p>“That <i>party</i>,” he says instead, “ended like an hour ago. Syk over there —” he jerks his head toward the other side of the counter, where a particularly grumpy-looking alien is currently wiping down glasses — “claims he owes me a favor, so I let him. <i>But</i> — I think the terms of that favor are about to expire.” As if on cue, Syk chooses that exact moment to shoot him a dirty look. Rich gives a curt nod before turning back. “Don’t make me fireman carry you out of this bar. I can and I will.”</p><p>Peter waggles his eyebrows — or, at least, attempts to — and the completely uncoordinated motion looks so ridiculous that Rich can’t help but laugh. Not the kind that he often finds himself having to fake just to keep up with conversation, but a <i>real</i> one that starts in his chest and spreads to the tips of him, that seems to take about ten pounds of weight off of him without even trying.</p><p>It feels really good.</p><p>Rich scoots out of his barstool, the scrape the bottom of it makes against the floor practically echoing off the walls of the near-empty Starlin’s, and steps over to Peter’s other side. “All right. C’mon, you stubborn asshole. I mean it.”</p><p>Peter, for his part, is compliant enough to not need a fireman’s carry. But he also can’t walk a straight line for more than two inches at a time, either, so, with an arm slung over both shoulders, it’s up to Rich to guide Peter back to where his ship is currently parked. The pace is a stumble more than a walk, and it takes at least three, if not four, times longer to get there than it normally would, but they manage it.</p><p>Somehow.</p><p>The weight isn’t that big of a deal to him, but even so, after they make it up the ship’s ramp and Peter seems to be able to stand on his own again without toppling over, Rich has to take a moment to catch his breath. He’s tired, honestly; it’s been a long day, a long year, a long… well, more than <i>five</i> years, and there are times that catches up to him more than others. (There are times he feels decades older than his actual age.)</p><p>Any thought of face planting somewhere to pass out himself, though, is interrupted by Peter’s voice in his ear, low and serious.</p><p>“I don’t want to think about what I’d be like without you.”</p><p>Here’s the thing: sometimes when Peter gets drunk enough, these really… deep things can fall out of his mouth without warning. This, right now, catches Rich off guard, makes him freeze where he stands and a breath catch halfway through an inhale. There are about a thousand thoughts running through his head, but none at all at the same time, because he can’t hold onto anything long enough for it to stick.</p><p>He barely registers that there’s a hand cupping his face now, fingers feather light as they move over the skin there. There’s a beat of hesitation before he lifts his eyes to meet Peter’s again; another before he has anything in response.</p><p>“For one thing,” he says, making an effort to keep his voice light in spite of the lump forming in his throat. “I think you wouldn’t be drunk off your ass right now with this nice big indentation mark on your forehead.” He lifts a hand, letting his thumb just barely graze over the mark in question. “Told you not to, uh — what did you say? Try to ‘drink me under the table’? The Nova Force is no joke.”</p><p>It’s not that Peter’s face — falls, exactly, but there’s a crease in his forehead, and his eyes have that haunted look that he doesn’t let many people see. “Richie, I’m serious.”</p><p>Serious to the point that those eyes are staring straight through him; Rich knows. Finding a spot on the floor doesn’t help much, because he can still feel them on him even if he isn’t looking into them, but it does give him enough time to collect some of his thoughts.</p><p>“Hey.” When he finally manages to find his voice again, it’s almost imperceptibly soft. “You know what the awesome part is? You don’t have to. ‘Cause I’m here, and you’re here, and it’s all done. At least I think it is. And….”</p><p>He doesn’t get a chance to finish that sentence (probably a good thing, he thinks, since he’s not really sure he’d <i>had</i> an end there), because that’s when Peter leans in and captures his mouth in a gentle kiss.</p><p>“Ugh.” Rich scrunches his nose as he pulls back, partially genuine and partially exaggerated for effect. “Your breath is horrible. <i>Please</i> try to brush your teeth before you pass out again, or else I’m sleeping on the other side of the universe tonight.”</p><p>Peter lifts a hand to his forehead in a clear mock salute. “Yes, Mr. Nova, sir.”</p><p>“Shut up.” Rich laughs and lightly pushes Peter away, thinking, not for the first time tonight, that in spite of… everything, he’s <i>really</i> glad to be alive.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>always accepting prompts on <a href="https://novasforce.tumblr.com/">tumblr!</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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